Warmth
by 1withRussia
Summary: It can be harder to accept those three little words than it is to get the courage to say them. Slash, suggested murder, some language. RussiaxCanada, because there isn't enough of it!


**So! My first story on this account 'cause I don't remember how to get to my other ones, hahaha! I've been wanting to write a Snapped!Canada fic and this isn't really one. It's kinda-sorta-snapped!Canada! I'll probably get to the real deal some other time. In the mean time, this idea was stuck in my head and I felt the need to write it. Oh yeah, it's a one-shot. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it at least a little bit~**

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The cold morning shone dimly through the blinds of the eerily clean bedroom. About the white painted room were maple-colored pieces of furniture. In the middle of the room lay a bed covered in a thick layer of silky, snow white sheets. There was a bundle in the middle of the bed, which eventually started to stir. The bundle reached a hand out and hesitantly pulled the sheets off. He sat up, rubbed his glowing sapphire eyes and looked around the alien room. Canada sighed. It's felt empty for a while now and he couldn't get himself used to the feeling. He shifted, moving his legs to the side of the bed and letting them hang there for a moment or two before heaving himself completely off. He slipped on some white, warm slippers and yawned. Walking normally seemed to ache, so he sloppily dragged his self to the bathroom instead.

The bathroom was equally bright and clean and white. The window on the left side let in the sunlight. Of course, it wasn't direct sunlight- it was the brightness that came from the sun attempting to reach it's rays through the clouds. The mirror was opposite to the window. The sink was beneath it. Canada starred at himself in the said mirror groggily. His elegant looking pajamas hung loosely on his pale, thin body. The white and red striped shirt was messily buttoned and the similar pants pooled at his feet for they were much to big. He frowned. He didn't like the way he looked. He was too pale, he had violet bags under his eyes, and his normally silky, beautiful hair was messy and tangled. He made his way back to the bedroom through the doorway and picked up his glasses from the wooden bedside table. He lazily placed them on his face. He continued to drag his feet to the kitchen.

He made himself some pancakes. They always made him feel better. Once they were placed in front of him, however, he noticed that he had lost his appetite. He scraped his fingernails across the wooden table leaving small scratch marks. He was hungry, but didn't have a bit of an appetite. He hadn't eaten for days. Maybe he was going crazy. He was getting those cravings again, the ones that he could get away with because of the fact that no one noticed him. Stress did that to him. He stood up from the table and threw the perfectly good pancakes away. As he stood in the hallway, he looked to the east and saw the door to the living room. The living room was a taboo place to him. He hadn't been there for forever, it seemed. He didn't want to remember what happened there. Today, however, he felt courageous enough. His pale, trembling fingers wrapped around the golden knob and turned it.

It wasn't bright in this room. The windows had been boarded up. The couch was turned over and on the opposite side of the room of where it's usual place is. The couch _was_ white, he remembered. It was beige now, covered with dirt and dust and stains. Crimson stains. The floor was abundant in debris and the similar red stains. He had to remember to clean this room up. Most of the furniture was overturned and damaged with scratch marks. The TV was broken. It looked like someone had thrown something at it and hit it smack dab in the middle of the screen, that was probably what _did _happen. His feet refused to step into the room, so he stayed in the doorway, remembering. He wasn't remembering what happened in the room that made it this way, but what happened in the room earlier to that. It was what caused him to have those dastardly cravings. No, he had them before then, and it was one of the reasons why he was loved by... him. That day seemed as if it was forever ago, yet it felt like yesterday. It confused him, but that only made him try to figure it out more. He tried to recall everything, every little detail. He had to figure it out.

_The couch was warm. It was snow white and comfy. The room was bright and clean and white. He had recently clean it. The light shone through the lightly curtained windows gracefully. The floor was clean and soft against his bare feet. A movie was playing on the TV, but neither of them were watching. Canada was content, he felt loved. He nuzzled his face up against his lover. His glasses were off, so that he could do that very thing. He felt strong arms wrap tighter around his body. He reached his own hand up to touch the scarf that was hanging from his lover's neck. He sniffed, wanting to memorize every detail of his lover. Canada noted that he smelled of sunflowers, vodka, and warmth. The other noticed the action and laughed._

"_What was that for?" The voice was smooth and caring. Canada looked up to stare into those amazing violet eyes. Those eyes showed amusement and love. Canada laughed and shook his head._

"_I was smelling you." _

"_Why? What do I smell like?" Another laugh._

"_Like sunflowers and vodka," Canada said, giggling. The other shrugged, admitting that he probably did smell as such. "... And warmth." Canada added. This caught the other off-guard. They seemed surprised, those violet eyes of his. "A lot of warmth." Again, the smaller nation nuzzled into the other's chest. "I love you, Russia."_

Canada gasped. How he regretted saying that. He hated himself for it. He pushed the hurt away and continued his memory. It hurt, badly, but he felt it was necessary to remember.

_His lover's chest tensed against him. He raised his head to view the violet orbs. They were blank. Canada became worried. "Russia? Ivan?" The other just blinked twice and looked at Canada as if he had just told him that the world was going to end. _

"_I'm sorry. I must go, I just remembered that I have something I need to do. I'll be back... s-soon." Russia spoke, wearily. He got up rather quickly and rushed out of the room and to the front door._

"_Wait!" Canada got up and went after the other. He heard the sound of his front door closing. Upon finally reaching the door,_ _he opened it and quickly looked around at the snow covered land. He was too late, his lover was out of sight. _

He leaned against the doorway. The memory only left him more confused, as it always did. Had he said it too early on in the relationship? Should he have not said it at all? Canada grunted and hid his face in his open palms. He dug his nails into his forehead roughly, withdrawing an iota of blood. He couldn't take it anymore. His "tick" was causing him to go mad. He had to give in. His hands trembled violently. His eyes grew emotionless. He closed the door to the living room and he went to the bedroom. Canada hastily dressed and upon noticing his bear laying on the bed peacefully, patted the creature's head and then walked out to the hall. He decided he would go out. He would find someone, preferably someone who wouldn't be missed, and bring them to his house. He would offer them a drink, some vodka maybe. He would ask them if they would like to see his living room... It sounded like a good plan.

...

Big and empty. The trouble was that he wasn't talking about his house, but himself. He had been thinking non-stop about the other nation for a few months now. He felt like a coward. Sure, Russia is no coward, but Ivan... maybe. He ran. Of all things, he _ran_. He bit his dry, chapped lips roughly. He sat criss-cross on a blood red couch in his favorite room. There was a huge window that allowed the little sunlight that existed through. The walls were painted white. All around him, bundles of sunflowers lay, staring at him... mocking him. He was such a coward, a bastard. Currently, this wasn't his favorite room. Yet, he stayed there. At the doorway, he noticed a figure, but he ignored it.

It was Lithuania. The trembling nation held a tray with a bottle of vodka and a glass. Toris found himself worried for Russia ever since he came home from Canada that day, only three months ago. Maybe, no, definitely, he shouldn't be worried. Russia wasn't really his friend or anything. "Russia, er I-Ivan?" Toris said, his voice sounding like that of a mouse. The said Ivan made no sign that he heard. "Ivan?" Violet eyes twitched lightly. Toris was too afraid to say the other's name again, so he just stepped into the room and placed the tray on the small, round table next to the couch.

"Tell me something, Lithuania," Russia demanded finally. Toris visibly tensed. Before the smaller nation could answer, Russia continued. "Am I... a coward?" The question was simple. A yes or no question. However, there was something about Russia's voice. It was testy, but... hurt? No, that wasn't possible.

"O-of course not! Why would you think that?" Lithuania's response did little to reassure Russia. His violet eyes narrowed. "D-did you want me to say yes?" The smaller nation's worried, soft voice caused the other's eyes soften again.

"He told me that he loved me. I didn't know what to do so I ran away. If you tell anyone-"

"I wouldn't!" Toris was surprised by his own outburst. He thought for a moment, realizing that Russia was asking for advice, indirectly of course. "It's okay to be loved, Ivan." Russia was taken aback for a millisecond, before turning to face Lithuania for the first time in a while. The look on his face encouraged Lithuania to go on. "I mean... I'm not saying you aren't loved already, but it's good to have someone special. Canada... He's nice. If he said he loves you, than he means it. You don't have to worry about that, th-that's for sure." A rare sincere smile spread across Russia's face.

"Spasibo, Toris. For the advice, for everything. If you don't mind, I have something that I need to do." With that, Russia stood and walked out of the painfully white room filled with sunflowers.

...

Canada pumped some soap into his hands and put them under the stream from the sink. The water that left his hands was red and stained the walls of the ivory sink. He glared at his reflection, at those unfamiliar sapphire abysses. He felt alien to himself. He always did after one of his "moments". He finished washing his hands and moved on to his face, removing the dried blood from his cheeks. Once he was totally finished, he exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. From the kitchen window, he looked at his backyard. It seemed there were messy piles of dirt everywhere. Shouldn't he have gotten good at that after so many times? He sat down at the table and starred blankly, thinking. That was when the doorbell rung. He growled lowly, but went to open it anyway.

"Hello!" He said cheerfully, falsely, immediately after opening the door. He didn't even see who it was.

"Hello. Is Mr. Williams here?"

"I am Mr. Williams," Canada said sadly. Yet again, he went unnoticed, unrecognized. The man at his doorway was a young-looking mailman. The said man smiled and asked Canada to sign some paper. Canada only wondered for a second what it could be until it was brought into view. It was a beautiful bouquet of blood-red roses. What was the most intriguing, however, was the sunflower in the middle.

"Here you go, sir." The flowers were handed to Canada and the nation closed the door after the mailman. Canada debated whether to read the small card that came with it or not. He did.

"_Matthew,_

_I'm sorry. I could only hope that you would forgive me, da? You're like the sunflower in a field of roses- one in a million. I was stupid and I apologize. I would prefer to die than lose you, my sunflower. _

_Please forgive me,_

_Ivan"_

Canada bit his lip. He didn't really know how to react, but apparently his body did. He couldn't completely control the smile that found its way to his mouth or the trembles of joy that his hands were doing. He took out the sunflower from the flowers and dropped the others to the ground. He cared little for roses, too cliché. Pressing the card and the sunflower to his chest he breathed in the scent of the flower. So close to the smell he so wished to smell... it was only missing the vodka... and the warmth. A knock on the door startled him to the point of almost dropping the items at hand. He gasped and grasped the sunflower tighter. He only had to reach his hand a little to open the door and when it swung open, he was surprised that he wasn't surprised. The happy grin on his face turned softer.

"Hi," Canada said quietly. The other smiled awkwardly with a hopeful look in his violet eyes. Canada let Russia in, then closed the door. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the taller nation. "I'm sorry. It was my fau-"

"Nyet. It was mine. Matthew, I shouldn't have done what I did. It was such a cowardly thing to do." The words seemed uneasy. Canada smiled kindly, reassuringly. Russia opened his mouth then closed it again. Finally he found his voice and said, "I love you, too." The words seemed weird to Russia, but right. The smaller nation nodded. How he relished awkward moments. Endless minuets passed with the nations starring at eachother with looks of confusion and love. More of forever passed, until Canada finally rushed to embrace the taller man. He took a deep breath, taking in as much of the scent as he could. Such warmth radiated from the other. Russia smiled. "I love you." He said again, just too get used to it.

"I know. I love you too." A giggle escaped the smaller nation's lips."You would've loved what I did today." The content, happy-go-lucky tone in Canada's voice returned. Russia missed it so.

"I miss everything, da?" They laughed.

"Well, I'll invite someone over and I can show you!" Russia was about to say something, but Canada was already out the door. So Russia waited happily.

Soon, Canada returned. There was a semi-drunk man with him, babbling about something trivial. Canada shrugged and Russia smiled wickedly.

"Would you like to see our living room?" Canada asked the man. The drunk agreed.

"I've missed that room." Russia happily responded.

Canada smiled, showing pearly white teeth. "So have I." The two lovers laughed as they went to show the man their beloved living room.

Russia's violet eyes sparkled just as Canada liked it. Russia noted that he was the happiest nation, no doubt about it. After all, he had Canada, didn't he? "I _really _love you."

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**Ve~ Sorry for my crappy writing! Haha... Anyway, I couldn't figure out an ending, so I had to wing it. Too short, da? Oh well, better luck next time. Reviewing literally takes _seconds_, so please do it! **

**Side note: Canada was surprised for not being surprised, so evidently he was surprised! My logic is so logical! XD**

**So I was going to write the Russian words _in _Russian (I need every opportunity to practice as I can get), but whatever. **

Spasibo (спасибо) - Thank you

Nyet (нет) – No

Da (да) – Yes (but you probably know that)


End file.
